The Ties That Bind
by Cowboys-and-coffee
Summary: Addison has a secret. There's only one person she can confide in, and he's two thousand miles away.  Spoilers up through PP 4.8 and Grey's 7.8. Mentions of rape/sexual abuse.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** This was written for the Big Bang Challenge at Shonda_land over on LJ. Spoilers through PP 2.8 and a little of Grey's through 7.8.

* * *

The rain beating down outside matched the beating of his heart, and he wondered again if he should be doing this, if this was the right thing. Meredith wasn't happy about it, but she said she understood, so it wasn't the fallout from her that he was worried about.

In fact, he wasn't really worried about Meredith at all. Instead, he was worried about her — incredibly worried — and it was that feeling that was scaring him.

For the past two years, she had been such a small part of his consciousness, a piece of the past that he was long since over. Not that they didn't get along — he considered her a friend after all — but that was it.

Until now. Now he was afraid it was becoming a much different feeling.

It had started with the phone calls. The first one was a surprise. It was five in the morning. He was sitting in the kitchen enjoying a cup of coffee, trying to wake up for work. The peal of the phone had shattered the morning's solitude.

He had frowned when he saw her name on the caller I.D., but had picked it up anyway. She'd never call without a good reason.

"Addison?" he'd asked softly.

"Derek, I did something bad and I don't know what to do."

And then she had told him. About Charlotte's attack, how Charlotte had called her, how she knew Charlotte had been raped but Charlotte hadn't wanted a rape kit, how Charlotte made her swear not to tell anyone what happened, how she had taken samples for a rape kit without Charlotte's knowledge and locked them in the hospital fridge and not told anyone, how the secret she had been carrying for just over 24 hours was already killing her.

"You need to report it, Addie," Derek had told her. "It's the right thing to do. It's your duty. You don't want to lose your license over this."

"I can't," she'd said, and he'd known by the way her breath hitched that she'd started to cry. "I can't tell anyone. I promised, Derek, I promised!"

She'd called him back every morning since with updates. She wasn't sleeping and she was barely eating. The agony of what she had done was killing her.

The second day she had told him about Sam, how they were together. Derek hadn't expected the sting of pain he felt at that.

"You're sleeping with your best friend's husband? How very like you," he'd said coldly, the picture of them together bringing up unwanted memories of finding her with Mark.

"How dare you!" she had hissed. "You found a girlfriend when I was trying to make things work with you! You don't get to judge me for this! Sam and I are both single. We aren't doing anything wrong. I love him!"

She'd slammed down the phone, and he had stomped off to get ready for work, but for the rest of the day, her final words — "I love him!" — had played on repeat in his head.

He had figured she wouldn't call back after that, but she had.

"I'm sorry," was the first thing he'd said to her. "I shouldn't have said that. It's … weird, you and Sam. It's weird. But this is between you and Sam and Naomi. I'm not going to judge you for it. If you can be okay with Meredith and me, I can be okay with this."

"Thank you," she had whispered.

They had talked a bit about Naomi that morning, how she was away on a business trip and how Addison wasn't sure if their friendship would ever really be repaired. Derek hadn't asked her about Sam. Some details were best left unknown.

Though he had asked her about Sam the fourth morning.

"Have you told him about any of this?" he'd asked after she told him nothing had changed. Charlotte wouldn't talk to her, although she was trying everything she could, offering to get her coffee or tea or to be her friend. But Charlotte wanted nothing to do with her.

"I can't tell him," she had said. "He keeps asking me what my secret is, but I can't tell him."

"No," Derek had said. "Not that. This. Does Sam know about this? Does he know you're calling me?"

There had been a really long pause, so long he almost had started to wonder if she'd hung up.

"No," she finally said.

The fifth morning had been the worst. She had been crying when she'd called, sobbing almost. It had taken twenty minutes just to try to get her to calm down enough that she could talk to him. His heart had ached hearing her cry and not being there to actually do something about it.

Addison crying had always been his downfall, starting from the day in med school he found her crying over her notes in the library when she thought no one was looking. He'd studied with her that day, promised her she was the smartest girl in their class and she wasn't going to fail out. He had asked her out the next day.

But being 2,000 miles away from her when she was crying was a lot harder. All he had been able to do was whisper soothing things into the phone, tell her he was there and that she could talk to him and that it was going to be okay.

She had finally calmed down enough to where she could talk. It had been a horrible day. She and Sam had fought over something stupid — she thought he was mad at her for not telling him her secret — Charlotte was avoiding her like she was the plague, and the guilt she was feeling about the Jane Doe-labeled rape kit in the hospital fridge was haunting her. And to top it off, she'd had to spend half the day hiding in the bathroom or her office because she kept bursting into tears — and Addison hated crying in front of people.

It was after she had confessed all this that he had finally said it. He had wanted to say it from the beginning, but it had never felt right.

"Maybe you should tell Sam, Addison," he'd said gently. "Don't you think it's time he knew?"

"I can't tell him about Charlotte," she'd said.

"I'm not talking about Charlotte."

There had been another one of those amazingly long, awkward pauses.

Finally, "You said you would never bring that up."

"No," he'd corrected gently. "I said I'd never bring it up as long as I thought you were okay, but I don't think you're okay."

"This has nothing to do with me," she'd told him harshly.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive," she had snapped, and he had let it go.

The next morning she'd told him she had told Sam about Charlotte and he was going to talk to Violet.

Over the course of the next few days, Sam had indeed done what he'd said he would do. He talked with Violet, without revealing anything, and as they had hoped, Violet had caught on. And once it had all started to come out, Addison had called the police to report that she had the rape kit.

"So why don't I feel any better?" Addison had asked that morning. "Why does everything still feel so messed up? Charlotte is going to hate me, and I feel … I feel … I feel like this is never going to be okay again."

"You know why you feel that way," Derek had said softly.

"Derek, don't. Please …"

"Go to the airport, Addison," he'd said then, putting into words a thought he had had a few days before that he hadn't really paid attention to.

"What?"

"Pack a bag. Go to the airport. I'll have a ticket waiting for you."

"Umm, what?" she'd said again.

"You need to get away, Addison. Come to Seattle. For a few days. You need to get away. Being there, it's not good for you. You know that. And if you're not going to talk to Sam, you need to talk to someone. Come to Seattle."

Ten minutes later she had agreed, and five minutes after that he was booking her a ticket.

"Addison's coming to Seattle," he had told Meredith when she came downstairs to get her own cup of coffee.

"Oh, for a case?" she had asked.

"No. Something personal. She's been going through a hard time. I thought it would be good for her to get away from L.A."

"You thought?" Mer had frowned at him.

"I told you I've been talking to her."

"I know … it's just …" Meredith had paused, then sighed, then smiled. "You're right. You're friends. It's fine. I've been spending a lot of time with Cris lately, I know, so it's good. This is good. It's fine."

Now, five hours later, Derek was here, at the airport, searching the crowd for the familiar locks of red hair, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart and the worry that he was maybe beginning to feel something for Addison that he shouldn't be feeling.

"She's just a friend," he told himself, and then he spotted her.

He smiled warmly as she approached, but his smile faded as she got closer. From afar, she was as beautiful and as put together as ever: long back coat, black heels, her hair, now back below her shoulders, perfectly styled. But when she was standing in front of him, he saw something else — dark circles under her eyes that the makeup didn't totally hide, the red of the tip of her nose a sure sign she had been crying and the look in her eyes, the incredibly sad, weary look in her eyes.

"Oh, Addie," he whispered, and then she was in his arms, hugging him tightly, her head buried in his shoulder.

"I've got you," he whispered into her ear. "I've got you. It's going to be okay."

* * *

"So we're going to Joe's?" Addison asked a few hours later. He had taken her to the Archfield to check in and now they were finishing up an early dinner in the hotel's finest restaurant.

Derek nodded. "Mark and Callie want to see you."

She quirked a brow as she watched her former husband. "You didn't tell them …?"

"No." He shook his head. "I told them you had a difficult case and you were having a hard time with it. That's all they know. I figured what you want to tell them is up to you."

Derek saw her visibly relax and she smiled. "Thank you," she said.

Derek lowered his voice to make sure no one near them could overhear. "I still think it would be good for you to talk about it," he said.

Addison frowned. "You said you would drop it."

"Addison, I'm worried about you."

"Well, you don't need to be. I'm fine." She glared at him and wiped her mouth with a napkin. "Are you ready to go?"

"Addie …"

"Don't Addie me."

"Addison," he corrected, trying hard to make his voice even more gentle this time.

He reached across the table for her hand, but she snatched it away before he could touch her. He stifled a sign.

"Addison, you wouldn't be reacting like this if you were okay."

"Oh?" That brow of hers was heading northward again. "So now you're a psychiatrist?"

"No," he said, "I'm just saying that after what happened with Charlotte, it's not unexpected that you would be remembering …"

Addison slammed both hands on the table, effectively interrupting him. She raised herself a little out of her seat so she could peer directly into Derek's eyes.

"I wasn't raped, Derek," she hissed. "It's not bringing up anything. Drop it."

"Just because he didn't rape you, Addison, doesn't mean — "

"I said drop it!"

Addison's voice had risen dramatically, and quickly she dropped back into her seat, her cheeks flushing scarlet.

"Please drop it," she pleaded, and reached up to wipe her eyes, but not before Derek saw the familiar sight of unshed tears gathering there.

He sighed. He knew he couldn't push her.

"Okay," he said softly, "let's go."

* * *

As they left the restaurant and headed to Joe's, Addison told Derek she was fine and that they were fine, but the tension-filled silence in the car on the way to Joe's and the way she almost ran into the bar so she didn't have to walk by him told Derek that wasn't exactly true.

He hoped maybe being around Callie and Mark would help her.

But an hour later, when Callie plopped down beside him at a table, he began to rethink that as well.

"What's up with Addison?" she asked, gesturing over her shoulder to the redhead at the bar, surrounded by what looked like at least 10 shot glasses. Mark was sitting next to her, but Derek couldn't tell if Addison was talking to him, flirting with him or just avoiding him altogether.

"We had a little argument," Derek said. "I tried to help her, and it didn't go so well."

"Oh?"

"She's going through a rough time right now, and I want to make her feel better, but I think it only made things worse."

Callie smiled sympathetically. "She's a stubborn one, that's for sure," she said. "I'm sure she'll come around."

"Hopefully before she drowns her liver," Derek grumbled, watching her slam another shot as Mark leaned over to whisper something in her ear. "He does know she has a boyfriend, right?"

"Uh," Callie's eyebrows shot up and she stood up. "I'm not sure about that."

Derek smiled a real smile then as Callie raced over to Mark. Two seconds later, Meredith slid into her vacated seat.

"What's up with Addison?" she asked.

"It's been a rough week."

"Apparently," Meredith said. "I don't think I've ever seen her quite so drunk."

As if to illustrate Meredith's point, a high-pitched giggle erupted from the bar, and Derek turned just in time to see Callie and Mark both grab Addison's arm to keep her from toppling off her barstool.

He sighed. "Maybe I should have Joe call her a cab before she hurts herself."

Meredith pursed her lips. "Maybe you should just take her home with you."

Derek blinked. He was sure he had misunderstood something. "What?"

His voice came out a bit squeakier then intended. Mer laughed.

"Honey," she smiled. "Don't look so worry. I just meant, after watching her drink everything in sight, maybe it's better to not let her stay alone tonight."

Derek frowned. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Why?" Meredith asked. "You told me she's your friend. And I'm going to go stay with Cristina whether she likes it or not. It's not like you're going to sleep with her. Right?"

Derek almost choked on the glass of scotch in his hand. "Of course not!" he said, and winced at how defensive it sounded.

Meredith didn't notice. She just smiled, leaned over and kissed him and offered a, "See you later, then."

Derek sighed. Why did he have a bad feeling about this night?


	2. Chapter 2

Addison wasn't exactly eager to go home with Derek. Actually, she wasn't exactly eager to leave the bar at all.

"I wanna have a nodder onnneeeeee," she slurred when Derek tried to wrestle the shot glass out of her hand. She pulled it to her chest like she wanted to hug it. "Is mine!"

"Addison, I think you've had enough," he said softly.

"You don get to tell meee when I's had nough," she said, still trying to move away from Derek's reach.

"Addison."

"I don't like you."

Derek froze. He caught her eye and for a second the glazy look she had been sporting for the past couple hours was gone. Her gaze was direct, lucid and he knew exactly what she was talking about.

He leaned closer to her, so Mark and Callie, who were laughing about something next to them, couldn't hear.

"I'm not going to make you talk about it," he whispered in her ear. "I just want to make sure you're okay. I don't want anything to happen to you. You can understand that, right?"

Addison was silent, but her eyes were studying him. She nodded.

But as fast as the serious mood had come over, it vanished again. A grin broke out on her face and she leaned over to hug Derek. "Okay, we cans go now," she giggled into his chest.

Derek shook his head. Sometimes, living apart from Addison, he forgot what she was like, how she could annoy him and amuse him all at the same time, how he would long to be near her yet simultaneously want to be as far away from her as possible.

But as he helped her off her bar stool and held her coat out for her, and her fingers tangled with his as she held on to make sure she didn't fall, he had an uneasy realization that there were a lot of things about their relationship that he missed.

"You sure you got her?" Mark asked as he and Callie walked with Derek and Addison to the car, Addison still holding on to Derek's hand and giggling to Callie about something as they walked.

Derek nodded. "Yeah, it's fine. Everyone's out tonight so there a lot of empty beds."

"She has a hotel room, you know."

"I do. I just … don't want her to be alone. It's been a bad week." He felt like he was saying the same thing to everyone.

But Mark looked thoughtful. "She told me," he said, then clarified at Derek's surprised expression. "I mean, sort of. She told me one of her friends was attacked. And that she's having a hard time knowing what to do to help."

"Yeah," Derek said. "She is. I thought maybe coming here, getting away from the situation, would help her see things more clearly."

Mark nodded. "Is there something going on with you and Addison?"

Derek stumbled, jerking Addison, who was still holding his hand, and making her stumble too. Callie grabbed her before she could fall.

"Sorry," Derek said to Addison, before turning back to Mark who was watching this all happen with an interested expression.

"Interesting," Mark murmured.

"There's nothing 'interesting' here," Derek said quietly. "Nothing at all. She's my friend. I just want to help."

"iI/i could help her," Mark said with a sly grin.

Derek frowned. "Oh, hell no. She has a boyfriend."

Mark's grin faded. "Sam. She told me. That's just weird."

"I know."

"You're okay with it?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Just making sure, that's all," Mark said, but Derek had a feeling that wasn't what Mark had been doing at all.

He didn't have time to wonder, though, because he felt a tug on his arm and turned around in time to see Addison trip over something. This time he let go of her hand and was the one who managed to grab her before she could fall. He pulled her up against him and wrapped his arm around her waist.

"Oopsy," she giggled.

Callie and Mark waited until he had gotten Addison buckled into the car before turning to leave.

"Just … be careful, man," Mark said before turning away.

"What does that mean?" Derek couldn't help asking.

Mark stare pointedly at him. "Just what I said. Be careful."

* * *

Derek helped Addison on to the couch in the living room, then headed for the kitchen to get her a glass of water and some aspirin. His head was spinning. The cryptic message Mark was sending him, the feeling he had gotten when he held her hand walking to the car, the feeling he had gotten at the airport when she ran into his arms …

He wasn't supposed to be thinking things like this. Addison was his friend. He was helping her because she was his friend and he didn't like to see her hurting. That was all.

That, and the secret between them. He was the only one who knew. She had never told anyone, and 14 years ago when she had told him, she had begged him not to ever tell anyone. And he hadn't.

They had just started their intern year. Addison had been on a peds rotation. A little girl had been brought in, and it hadn't taken long for the doctors to start suspecting she was being abused.

Derek had found Addison sobbing in an on-call room. She'd been hysterical, on the verge of hyperventilating, and it was the first time she had ever truly scared him. He had wanted to get someone to help, but she had begged him not to leave her, and when she had finally calmed down enough, he had told her he was going to get their resident if she didn't tell him what was going on.

So she'd told him. In a voice barely more than a whisper, and without once looking at his face, she had told him about her dad's work colleague who was supposed to be keeping an eye on her while her dad was down the hall screwing his secretary but who had done a lot more than just keep an eye on her.

She had never told anyone. Not her parents, not her brother, not her nannies. No one. But she told Derek. He had been horrified, but when she promised she would talk to someone about it, he swore he wouldn't tell anyone.

She told him a few months later that she'd gone to see someone like he asked and that she was "fine." He knew she had been lying to him, but he loved her and didn't want to make things worse, so he had kept her secret.

And for the most part, Derek believed Addison really was okay with what had happened to her, but now, when something had happened to bring back those memories, he was worried, once again, about what this might do to her.

Trying to push all these thoughts out of his head, Derek grabbed the glass of water and the aspirin bottle and headed back to the living room.

Halfway there, his heart started pounding.

He rushed into the living room to have his fears confirmed. The giggling, drunk girl had been replaced with the sobbing mess in front of him.

She was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the couch, sobbing into her hands. Loud, wracking sobs that were shaking her whole body.

"Oh, Addie," he whispered sadly. He dropped the water and aspirin down on the table, and quickly took a seat beside her, his arms automatically reaching out for her, pulling her into his lap, positioning her so her legs draped across his lap, her arms wrapped around his neck and her face was buried in his shoulder.

He pressed her to him, wrapped one arm tightly around her back and began to rock her softly, his other hand stroking her hair.

"It's okay, it's okay, it's going to be okay," he whispered over and over into her hair.

"No, it's not," he heard her sob, her voice muffled by the cloth of his shirt. "It's not. I don't know what to do. I want to help her, but she won't let me. And she's going to hate me when she finds out what I did."

"She'll understand."

"I don't think she will," she sobbed, her cries became faster at that, too fast for her to be able to speak anymore. Instead she just clung to Derek and he held her back, wishing there was something he could do to make her feel better.

Derek wasn't sure how long they sat there, Addison in his arms, but finally, he felt her body begin to relax and her sobs begin to slow, until it was only her hitching breath that betrayed the fact that she wasn't okay.

Her red tendrils were covering her face, wet and sticky now, and he brushed the strands away. Her eyes were closed, and her face was covered with tears, but she had fallen asleep, though the fact that she was still crying a little even in slumber was breaking his heart. He wished he knew how to help her.

He figured he could at least let her sleep someplace more comfortable.

Carefully, Derek adjusted her in his arms, hooking one arm under her legs and the other tightly around her lower back. Slowly, he stood up, getting used to the weight of her in his arms. Addison stirred slightly, but she didn't wake up.

Derek took her into the master bedroom and laid her down. He had a strong suspicion Meredith wouldn't actually be okay with that, but it didn't matter right this moment. He just wanted Addison to be okay.

He dug through a couple of drawers, finally pulling out an old t-shirt for her to wear. The jeans and button-down shirt she had been wearing all day looked a little uncomfortable, not to mention that she smelled like vodka.

Derek was never sure later what he had actually been intending to do — wake her up and have her change herself or just change her for her — because he never had the chance to find out. The instant he leaned over her, her eyes fluttered open.

"Hi," she whispered.

He smiled. "Go back to sleep, Addie."

Addison's eyes filled with tears. "I need help, Derek," she whispered sadly. "I don't know what to do."

He smiled gently at her. "It's okay. We'll talk about it in the morning. We can talk about everything. We can figure something out. We can. I promise."

Addison shook her head. "I feel so lost," she said, her voice breaking as new tears glistened in her eyes.

Derek felt his heart ache at her words. "We'll figure it out," he whispered back to her. "I promise. You're not lost. You're with me."

Addison blinked. "Sam said he loves me," she said.

This time it was Derek's turn to blink. "Okay …"

"I told him I loved him too."

"Ummm … that's great, Addie …"

"I lied."

Derek felt like he couldn't breathe. "What?"

"I lied to him. I didn't think I was lying at the time, but I was. I know that now."

Derek didn't have to ask her how she knew. Her eyes said it all. She was staring at him, her blue eyes peering into his. He felt like she could see his soul; he felt like he could see hers.

And in an instant he knew what was going to happen. And in the same instant, he didn't care. His whole world was going to change, might even be ruined, but in that moment, when he looked into her eyes, he didn't care.

He wasn't sure if she leaned up into him or he leaned down into her, but it didn't matter. Their lips met, and the last few years disappeared. Everything they once had, they once were, was in that kiss, and it was magical.

His hands were in her hair, her hands were gripping his back, their lips were meeting, first softly, gently and then faster, rougher. She parted her lips and he pushed his tongue inside. He felt her nails dig into his skin through his shirt.

He had to touch her. Instantly, his hands moved from her hair, down to her waist. He pulled her into a sitting position, then found the bottom of her shirt. His lips never left hers, but with a surgeon's skill, he slid the buttons loose on her blouse until he could push it off her arms.

His hands slid up her sides, feeling the soft, silky expanse of skin. He cupped her breasts through her bra and she moaned into his mouth.

She found the bottom of his shirt and pulled it over his head, as his lips finally left hers. He trailed them downward, kissing, biting, licking, sucking, at her neck, her shoulder, her clavicle, the space between her breasts.

His hands made quick work of her bra, sliding it down her arms and tossing it somewhere away from them.

His mouth attached itself to her left breast, as his left hand cupped her right breast. He could hear her moaning somewhere above him, and he carefully pushed her backward so she was lying down once more.

He began tracing kisses down her stomach, trying to ignore the whimper that escaped her mouth when he left her breast. But within seconds, he was sliding the button of her jeans through the hole and pulling down the zipper. He pulled her jeans off her long legs, then carefully pushed her legs apart.

Pulling her panties to the side, he slid two fingers into her, smiling as he felt how wet she already was. Her hips instantly jerked at the contact and he used his other hand to hold her down.

It didn't take long to make her come, and as he watched her writhe under his touch and heard her cry out his name, nothing else in the world mattered.

But he wasn't finished yet. As she regained her breathing, he slid his fingers out of her and quickly pulled her panties down her legs. His own pants and boxers were discarded seconds later.

Addison smiled up at him when she saw, spreading her legs even wider to give him better access, and when he slid into her, they both sighed in contentment.

He held her to him as they moved. She dug her fingers into his back and wrapped her legs around his waist. His lips found hers, as their mouths came together over and over and over. He let her come first, and the feeling of her clenching around him, sent him over the edge as well.

* * *

Derek's eyes flew open. He felt like someone had just hit him.

Someone _had_ just hit him.

He grabbed Addison's arm as she took another swing, catching her off guard and causing her to topple forward on to his chest.

Instantly, and with a cry of horror, she pulled herself back upright, pulling the sheet up to cover her bare breasts.

"Addison …" Derek started. Images from the night before were filtering through his mind. He looked at the redhead perched in front of him.

She looked horrified.

"Oh, God, Derek," she whispered. "What did we do?"


End file.
